


Beyond Infinince

by Gnashingbumpkins



Category: Columbine - Fandom, Dylan Klebold - Fandom
Genre: Columbine, Dylan Klebold - Freeform, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:41:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27218074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gnashingbumpkins/pseuds/Gnashingbumpkins
Summary: Someone asked me to write something about Dylan, so here’s something; a sordid little once off that made me question the existence of my moral compass entirely whilst (badly) writing and editing it. 🖤
Relationships: Dylan Klebold/Original Female Character(s), Dylan Klebold/Reader, Eric Harris/Dylan Klebold
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	Beyond Infinince

**Author's Note:**

> ‘From childhood's hour I have not been  
> As others were; I have not seen  
> As others saw; I could not bring  
> My passions from a common spring.  
> From the same source I have not taken  
> My sorrow; I could not awaken  
> My heart to joy at the same tone;  
> And all I loved, I loved alone.’
> 
> \- Edgar Allen Poe

After three long months away from home, I return to Littleton at the end of the Summer feeling like a new person entirely - feeling just like a kid on Christmas morning at the prospect of finally seeing my best friend again.

Now almost thirty pounds lighter, having recently had my braces removed and traded in my glasses for a pair of contact lenses - I look almost as different as I feel.

My metamorphosis from ugly ducking to slightly attractive swan has been miraculous for my self-esteem and is a drastic change for a girl who thus far, has spent the majority of her formative years detesting herself with a fiery passion.

I had the time of my life working as a camp counselor this Summer, the whole experience did wonders for my self-confidence and really helped me come out of my shell. My days were spent lounging in the sun and playing games with a bunch of happy carefree kids - my nights consisted of roasting marshmallows, telling ghost stories and laughing with new friends around a roaring campfire.

This Summer was incredible, there was just one problem; every so often, Dylan would call me or vice versa - and I’d hang up the phone afterwards with a feeling of sadness and longing that almost knocked the breath right out of me.

Every time I got off the phone with him, I desperately craved one of those hugs - one of those rare hugs that always seem to mean more to me than they do to him.

I knew I’d miss him while I was away, God, of course I did, but I never could have imagined just how much - never could have fathomed a reality where a phone call from him could provoke such exquisite torment in me.

Dylan is my best friend and we haven’t spent an entire Summer apart since we were in the second grade, but it took almost three months and over a hundred miles between us for me to realize just how important he actually is to me - just how pivotal and vital a role he plays in both my happiness and life as a whole.

As soon as my plane touches down in Colorado, all I can think about is seeing him again.

Mom greets me at the airport, pulling me into a hug so tight I’m surprised she doesn’t manage to crack one of my ribs in the process. Then she drives me home.

After unpacking my bags, I jump into the shower and spend far too much time picking out an outfit afterwards - settling on a short black skirt, a tight cashmere sweater and a pair of knee length boots.

Tousling my hair in my bedroom mirror so that it looks just right, I can’t help grinning from ear to ear at my reflection. For the first time in my life I feel comfortable in my own skin, a little pretty even. Sure, I’m not going to be gracing the cover of Seventeen magazine anytime soon, but this Summer has made a world of difference as far as my appearance is concerned.

I can’t help but wonder whether or not Dylan will think I look pretty now. As much as I’m loathe to admit it, I’ve anticipated his response to the ‘new me’ for weeks.

Maybe now I’ll have the courage to tell him how I feel, to finally acknowledge that giant elephant that always goes ignored in the corner of any room we share. Maybe now he’ll actually see me, or at least stop referring to me almost exclusively as “dude.”

He isn’t expecting to see me until Monday morning at school. I’d gotten the dates mixed up the last time we spoke and ended up arriving home today, on Friday afternoon instead.

After many, many more hugs and promising Mom I’ll be back for the obligatory homecoming dinner at six, I get in the car and head straight over to Dylan’s.

I listen to the radio on the drive there, loudly singing along to the music in a vain attempt to distract myself from the mounting anticipation and bubble of nervous energy rising in my stomach.

Fingernails digging into the steering wheel, I oscillate wildly between excitement and fear on the ride over.

The thought of seeing him again has me on cloud nine. The idea off those arms wrapped around me again - however temporarily - has me practically crying tears of happiness in the driver’s seat of my old Toyota. There’s another thought though, a terrifying one that cannot possibly be eluded forever; this Summer I came to realize that I am in love with with him. Hopelessly, endlessly, irrevocably, madly in love with him and I have been for a very long time.

Dylan, my best friend, the boy I shared my first kiss with in the seventh grade after I’d double-dog dared him to do it. The boy who dropped a spider down the back of my dress the first day we met on the playground. The boy who cheered me up by agreeing to go to the Christmas dance with me - however reluctantly- after I’d been cruelly and publicly rejected by Mark Thompson.

I am in love with him and whether the feeling is mutual or not, the sad reality is that nothing will ever be the same between us after I divulge this sensitive piece of information. If he doesn’t feel the same, this could be the thing that taints if not entirely ruins our relationship forever. The idea scares me more than anything else on this Earth, more than any terrible scenario I could possibly conjure up, but I know that eventually that can of worms will have to be opened.

For three long years, I’ve lied to myself constantly and pushed my feelings aside.

For three long three years, I’ve stood idly by - with a heart that felt like it had been tossed into a wood chipper - as he developed crush after crush on a steady parade of girls who weren’t anywhere near good enough for him - who could never even begin to understand or appreciate a soul as beautiful and rare as his.

For three long years, I’ve been his. I’ve been so fucking his, and he never even saw me standing in front of him.

Maybe now he’ll finally see me...

I bring the car to a stop, parking near the closed gate at the end of the long driveway leading up to Dylan’s house.

Glancing at myself in the mirror, I take a deep breath then another. “You look good, Hannah,” I assure myself aloud, trying desperately to ignore the nagging feelings of self-doubt. “Great even.”

Reaching for the handle of the car door, my heart starts to beat a little faster.

Maybe now, after all this time...

Consumed with an almost delirium  
inducing level of anticipation, I climb out of the car. The gate is promptly jumped over before I begin the slow walk up the long narrow driveway towards the house - and my heartbeat has escalated to a jackhammer like pace by the time I reach his front door.

I’ve always loved Dylan’s house, a place that’s become almost like a second home to me over the years. Various large windows adorning the house provide the Klebold’s with breathtaking views of the idicil, dreamy scenery beyond and both the location and the house itself are stunning - a large unusually shaped structure, nestled in the midst of gigantic misshapen slabs of red mountainous rock.

More than once over the years, I’ve thought that the area surrounding Dylan’s house looked like something that belongs on a postcard.

Butterflies fluttering wildly in my stomach, I take another deep breath for luck, knock on the door a few times and wait. When there’s no answer, I lift my hand to ring the bell, but the door opens first, saving me the trouble.

Dylan’s Mom appears on the other side, greeting me with a wide smile and a surprised raise of her eyebrows. “Hannah! Is that you? You look so grown up, I barely even recognized you there for a second! How are you, dear?”

Barely even recognized me. Good. This is the new me. The brave, confident, self-assured me. The me that Dylan is going to fall in love with... hopefully.

“I’m great, Mrs. Klebold, thanks. It’s really good to see you!”

“It’s good to see you too, sweetheart!”  
Dylan’s Mom’s kind smile slowly morphs into a frown of concerns as she eyes me up and down. “You’ve gotten so skinny, Hannah. I hope they were feeding you enough at that camp...”

“They were, Mrs. Klebold,” I assure her with a smile. I’ve always liked Dylan’s Mom, both of his parents actually, and it’s a genuine pleasure to see another familiar face after so many weeks away.

“Dylan said you weren’t going to be home until Monday. He’s going to be so excited when-.”

“Shhh!” I plead, bringing a finger to my lips. “He doesn’t know I’m back yet, I want to surprise him!”

“Oh, I see,” Mrs. Klebold laughs, nodding her head understandingly. “Well, don’t worry, he’s up in his room with Eric right now so I doubt he even heard you.”

Of course he’s with Eric... Fuck. Why hadn’t I anticipated this?

“By all means,” she says, gesturing towards the stairs with a wave of her hand. “Go right on upstairs and surprise him!”

“Thanks, Mrs. Klebold,” I tell her, grinning as I walk into the hall and look towards the stairs.

“He’s going to be so happy to see you, Hannah!”

I turn back around to face Dylan’s Mom as she shuts the front door. “Don’t tell him I said this, but he’s done nothing but mope around the house, talking about you since you left!”

“Really?” I ask, feeling a wide, involuntary smile spread across my face at this particular nugget of information.

Mrs, Klebold raises an eyebrow then starts to smile herself. “Dylan cares about you a lot you know. You’re very important to him.”

“He’s very important to me too,” I admit, trying to will myself not to blush.

“Oh, I know,” she replies in a nonchalant tone, but starts to smile a little wider.

Embarrassed, I stare down at my boots, avoiding her knowing gaze.

“Why don’t you go ahead on up and join him and Eric?” she finally says. “I’m sure they’ll both be delighted to see you.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Klebold. Will do.”

“I’ll be in the living room reading if you kids need me.”

Walking upstairs, the butterflies in my stomach only seem to intensify the closer I get to Dylan’s room.

It’ll be nice to see Eric as well, of course. As much as I hate to admit it, I do have a bit of a soft spot for the lovable pain in the ass, but I wasn’t expecting him to be here.

I envisioned this moment in my mind a thousand times while I was away, but not once did that image ever involve Eric Harris’ sarcastic commentary.

Pausing outside Dylan’s bedroom door, I find myself smiling again at the familiar sound of him and Eric bickering like an old married couple; “I’m telling you, dude, I have it on good authority that her Mom is a stripper!”

Dylan scoffs loudly. “And who is this good authority exactly?”

“I can’t reveal my sources!”

“Come on. Spill. Where’d you hear it?”

“I... I overheard some heard some guy saying it in the bathroom, alright, but I-.”

“I knew it was just a big steaming pile of horseshit...”

“It’s fucking true, man!” Eric insists. “I’m telling you!”

“You wanting it to be true doesn’t make it true, Reb!”

“This isn’t about me, Vodka, but you’ve got to admit, she is pretty fucking hot for an older woman...”

“I guess she’s alright,” Dylan concedes. “Not really my type though.”

“She’s not, huh? And what is your type exactly, Dylan? Chunky girls with glasses that you used to hunt spiders with in second grade?”

“Oh shut up, man. You know I’m not into Hannah like that. We’re just friends.”

“Just friends my ass, I see the way you two dipshits look at each other. Are you seriously gonna sit here and tell me you’ve never thought about fucking her, not even once?”

“I.... no.”

“Is it because she’s a little pudgy? Cause there’s nothing nothing wrong with that, my man. Just more cushion for the pushin’ if you ask me.”

Clamping a hand over my mouth, I try my best not to laugh - not wanting to reveal the fact that I’m right outside the door.

“Yeah, well, nobody fucking asked you, did they?” Dylan snaps.

“Woah, someone’s touchy! Fuck! Okay, fine, chill! I won’t talk about your precious little girlfriend anymore, alright?”

“For the fiftieth fucking time, she’s not my damn girlfriend, Reb!”

“I know... you just want her to be.”

“Jesus Christ! Hannah and I are just friends! Can’t you get that through your thick fucking skull already?”

As soon as he says that, my heart sinks in my chest and all I want to do is turn around, walk down the stairs, straight out of the house and back out to my car.

“Keep talking to me like that, Klebold, and my fist will be going right through your thick fucking skull!”

I want to cry and scream and find some way of punishing myself for my complete and utter stupidity.

To think I actually thought I had a chance with him now, that he might finally see me as a viable option. I might feel like another person, I might look different, but to Dylan; I’ll always be that awkward pudgy girl with glasses that he befriended in the first grade.

Nothing more.

Tears welling in my eyes, I take a step away from the door, inadvertently stepping on a floorboard that creaks far too loudly beneath my boot.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

I keep walking quickly along the landing, silently praying they didn’t hear me, but then I hear Eric calling out after me, proving otherwise.

“Hey!” Turning around, I’m met with the site of Eric stood in the doorway of Dylan’s room, a hand propped up either side of the frame. “Woah! Holy shit! Is that really you?!”

Eric lets out a low whistle, walking out into the hall to get a better look at me. “Goddamn! Must have been a fat camp you were working at, huh?”

“Hello Eric,” I wearily reply. “What an unpleasant surprise to see you here. I was hoping you would have died of some terrible disease when I was gone...”

“No such luck, brace-face,” he laughs. “Unfortunately for you, I’m still kicking.”

“You can’t call me that anymore,” I tell him, flashing a toothy grin. “The braces are gone now, see?”

“Oh, I see,” Eric nods his head with a slow smile, proceeding to eye me up and down. “I see very well... and I wouldn’t mind seeing a little more... if you catch my drift.”

“You wish,” I laugh, pushing past him so I can get into the room.

“Who the fuck are you are you taking to?” Dylan mutters from where he’s laying flat on his stomach on the bed.

Pausing in the doorway, I stand there until he finally senses a presence and glances back over his shoulder. “Holy shit! Hannah!” Dylan grins, eyes widening as he jumps up from the bed - quickly striding across the room to me. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I’m selling some Girl Scout cookies and I thought you might want to buy some...”

“Girl Scout cookies?” Dylan furrows his brow in confusion.

“I’ll take two boxes of thin-mints,” Eric jokes, reappearing in the doorway.

“I’m here to see you, idiot!” I laugh delightedly, rushing across the room to embrace him. “I know you’re not much of a a hugger, but I don’t give a shit. You’re hugging me whether you like it or not, Klebold!”

Dylan holds his arms out and everything seems right in the world as he captures me in them - pulling me into a bearhug, holding my body tightly against his own.

Face buried in his chest, I breath in the familiar scent of him, finally feeling at home again for the first time since I arrived back in Colorado.

“Hey, you’re not hearing any arguments from me, are you?” he chuckles, running a hand up and down the length of my back.

“God, it’s fucking good to see you! I didn’t think you’d be back until Monday!”

“I wanted to surprise you,” I tell him, slowly taking my arms from around his shoulders - resting a hand on his chest.

“Well, that you certainly did,” Dylan beams down at me, that warm familiar smile, instantly invoking such feelings of comfort and safety in me, I could almost start to cry right there in his bedroom.

I can’t help but notice that one of his arms is still wrapped around my waist as he looks down at me. Ocean blue eyes, sad, strange and lovely, piercing into my soul... God, how I missed those eyes. Dylan breaks first, quickly taking his gaze down to the carpeted floor beneath our feet.

Suddenly feeling embarrassed, I look away too, staring at the Marilyn Manson poster above his bed as though it’s suddenly become the most interesting thing in the world.

“Jesus, you look different,” he finally says, breaking the slightly awkward silence. I look back to find him scanning me up and down. “Great... but different.”

“She looks fucking hot,” Eric chimes in from where he’s stood in the doorway, taking in the scene unfolding in front of him with wry amusement. “You can say it, Vodka. I mean, we’re both thinking it.”

“Dude! Don’t say that!” Dylan tells him, cheeks visibly beginning to turn pink.

“Why not?” Eric laughs. “It’s true.”

“Because, man...” Dylan’s voice trails off. “It’s disrespectful.”

“Oh sweet Jesus.” Eric shakes his head in disbelief, looking over at me. “Do you hear this shit, Hannah? Will you please tell Dylan that it’s okay to objectify your friends if they’ve suddenly become fuckable over night?”

“Thank you, Dylan,” I tell him, attempting to ignore the presence of our friend. “I really missed you, you know.”

“I missed you too,” he says, smiling at me in a way that more than makes up for the unpleasant overheard conversation. It’s just so good to see him again, to be with him again, to finally get one of those hugs that always seem to mean more to me...

Just friends. The words repeat themselves over and over again, ringing hollow in my mind. Just friends. Just friends. Just friends.

“And what about me, huh?” Eric asks. “You didn’t miss your old buddy, old pal, Reb, at all?”

“Like a fucking hole in the head,” I laugh, pulling Eric in for a quick hug of his own. “Come here, you dick.”

“What was that about my dick?” Eric smirks, wrapping his arms around me.

“Yeah, okay, I think that’s enough, thanks.” Placing a hand on Eric’s chest, I lightly push him away.

“Oh come on, Hannah,” he laughs, giving me another quick once over with his eyes. “You hugged Dylan for at least thirty seconds. If there’s nothing funny going on between the two of you, I should be getting the exact same treatment...”

“You’re lucky you got a hug at all, pervert!”

“Be nice to me, Hannah! Don’t forget, I was still willing to give your dorky ass a shot back when you had a double chin and a mouth full of metal...”

The three of us hang out in Dylan’s room, catching up on the events of the last few months while watching the VHS of Reservoir Dogs he rented the night before.

A lot has changed for me the past few months, but thankfully some things never do - and sitting in Dylan’s room, cracking stupid jokes and shooting the shit with him and Eric, it feels almost like I never left Littleton at all.

Several times, when there’s a temporary lull in the conversation and we actually start to watch the movie again, I notice - or at least think I notice - Dylan staring at me from the corner of my eye. Not once am I brave enough to look back and confirm it for certain.

After an hour or so, Eric rises from his chair with a groan, informing us that he has to leave to go get ready for a late shift at Blackjack. I try to pretend that I’m not happy that he’s leaving, but I can’t help myself - can’t ignore the sheer elation and nervous excitement brewing inside me at the thought of finally being alone with Dylan again.

The two of us remain on the bed, continuing to watch the movie as Eric gets up to go and my heart starts to beat a little faster at the sound of him shutting the bedroom door behind him.

Dylan’s hand is dangerously close to mine on the bed and I move my own just a little, just enough to gently brush the tips of my fingers over his.

Sorry,” he mutters, taking his hand away from mine without looking away from the TV.

A low sigh escapes me as we lay there, causing him to look over at me.

“What?”

I shake my head. “Nothing.”

Dylan looks back at the screen and I want to rip my hair out at the roots out of sheer frustration and embarrassment. Maybe this is a mistake. Maybe I’m just lonely. Maybe I’m about to ruin the most incredible relationship I’ve ever had simply because I don’t want to endure that loneliness anymore.

Reluctantly, I come to the decision that I need to let this go - ultimately deciding that this can’t jeopardize things between us - I can’t let it. I need to bury my feelings deep within myself and ignore their existence entirely or at least to the best of my ability. The realization is painful, bitterly so, but undoubtedly long overdue. Just friends. Just friends. Just friends.

We sit there in silence, watching the movie until the credits start to roll - when I notice that Dylan has turned over on the bed and is now staring up at me.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he says, a lazy smile playing on his lips. “Just good to have you back is all.”

“It’s good to be back,” I admit. “It’s good to be with you again.”

“I feel the same way.” Dylan stares me dead in the eye as he says it and a jolt of pure electricity courses through me at the words. Is this really happening? I can’t be the only one feeling this - like Heaven itself is suddenly on the horizon, like pure unadulterated bliss and perfect happiness is now a possibility....

Feeling my pulse quicken, I force myself to maintain eye contact with him, shuffling a little closer on the bed.

Dylan swallows a lump in his throat then moves forward slightly himself. “I really fucking missed you, Hannah,” he sighs and I can’t seem to help but stare - almost hungrily - at his lips as he speaks.

“Yeah?” I ask, shuffling a little closer again, just close enough so that our legs are now touching.

Now I’m the one swallowing a sudden lump in my throat because Dylan and I have been staring at each other for almost a full minute now and part of me can’t believe this is actually happening. Most of me, if I’m being honest.

“Yeah,” he says, and all I want to do is seize that face in my hands, press my mouth to his and run my fingers through that shaggy blonde hair.

Feeling suddenly brazen, I lean in, bringing my face closer to his. “Why don’t you show me how much?”

Dylan’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, then he starts to laugh, hard, squinting his eyes closed as he loudly guffaws on the bed next to me. “Oh God! That was a good one!” He wipes a tear from his eye with the back of his hand, barely managing to get the words out between laughs. “Jesus, you really had me going there for a second!”

“I wasn’t fucking around,” I have to force the words out, but I manage it, despite how exposed, raw and vulnerable it makes me feel.

He appears to swallow another lump in his throat before quietly replying; “You weren’t?”

“No,” I shake my head, leaning in just a little more. “I wasn’t.”

Dylan’s bedroom door suddenly flies open, causing the two of us spring back from each other as if the other were on fire.

“Don’t mind me!” Eric interrupts, marching back into the room. “I forgot my damn jacket and...” Looking over at the two of us, a slow smile starts to spread across his face. “Hey... what were you guys talking about just now?”

Dylan gives Eric a look that could turn Medusa herself to stone, only making him laugh even harder as he picks his jacket up from where it’s draped over the desk.

“Dylan and Hannah,” he sings, walking over to the door, shoving his arms down into the sleeves of his jacket. “Sittin’ in a tree...”

Cheeks a not so subtle shade of pink, Dylan picks up a pillow from the bed and fires it across the room - narrowly missing his friend as he walks out into the hall.

“F-U-C-K-I-N-G!”

Burying his face in his hands, Dylan sighs heavily before looking back up at me over the tips of his fingers. “Can you believe him?”

“Of course I can.” I fall back down onto the bed where I can comfortably stare up at him. “It’s Eric for crying out loud. We’re lucky we got off as light as we did if you ask me.”

“What, you think this is the last we’re going to hear about this?” he exhales sharply.

“Oh God, no, but I’m surprised he didn’t stick around a little longer to mercilessly tease the two of us.”

“I’m sure he’ll more than make up for it the next time we see him,” Dylan says with a quick raise of his eyebrows. “Something to look forward to, I suppose.”

Suddenly remembering that I promised to be home by six - before Mom goes to work - I glance down at my wristwatch to see that it’s now almost seven. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” I jump up from the bed and start smoothing down the front of my skirt.

“What?” Dylan asks, looking slightly alarmed as he watches me. “What is it?”

“I told Mom I’d be home before she left for work,” I explain, now feeling incredibly guilty - all I cared about was seeing Dylan again when I got back and by extension; all I really cared about was myself - how I felt, what I wanted.

“We were supposed to have a little homecoming dinner together tonight. Just the two of us. Now I won’t get to see her again until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest.”

“Another overnighter, huh?” he asks sympathetically.

“Yeah,” I nod my head sadly, wondering whether or not I can still catch her if I’m willing to haul ass and break the speed limit a little. “Look, I’m going to go, Dylan, I might still catch her if I leave right now. Please call me tomorrow though, okay?”

I stand there just a moment longer before I go, just to look at him, but then I am compelled to lean over the bed and take his face between my hands - feeling his long blonde hair tickling my fingers as I plant a small kiss on forehead.

Dylan quickly brings a hand up, tightly wrapping his fingers around my wrist as I go to turn away from the bed. “Wait.”

I stop to look back at him, staring up at me with a strange intensity in his eyes. “What was that you were saying before Reb burst in?”

“We can talk about it later, Dylan. I feel bad enough already about missing dinner. If I get home before she leaves I can at least see her and apologize first.”

“Alright,” he sighs, waving a hand towards the door. “Fuck off then. I might call you later... if I feel like it.”

“And I might answer,” I tell him, trying to fight off a smile as I head for the door. “If I’m bored out of my skull and in the mood to talk to an annoying dickhead such as yourself....”

I take the stairs two at a time, calling out a quick goodbye to Dylan’s Mom as I reach the bottom then speed home like a bat out of hell.

My heart sinks in my chest a little when I drive up the street towards my house and see that Mom’s car is already gone. In the kitchen, I find a note on the countertop informing me that dinner is in the fridge, but the food goes untouched - I feel far too guilty to eat.

After several attempts at calling Mom at work, I finally get through, apologizing profusely for having missed dinner. My conscience is eased slightly as she assures me that it’s fine, that we can just do it tomorrow night instead, but hanging up the phone, I still feel like a shitty daughter regardless.

Hours later, I’m up in my room - listening to music and flicking through a heavily battered copy of ‘American Psycho’ - when I hear someone knocking on the front door downstairs.

I turn the radio down and head downstairs, pausing at the end of the hall to peek around the corner. Through the glass panels on the front door, I see Dylan standing there, already looking impatient as he brings a fist up to knock again.

“Who is it?” I call out, watching him - still hidden from his line of vision around the corner.

He breaks into a grin so instant and lovely it makes my heart swell in my chest. “Tis I, your favorite annoying dickhead, come to call on you!”

Biting down on my lower lip, I lean back against the wall behind me, feeling my heartbeat start to escalate once again.

“You there, Hannah banana?”

I’m about to call out again when he says; “Little pig, little pig, let me in...”

Feeling my lips turn up into a grin, I walk over to the door and open it. “Not by the hair on my chinny chin chin.”

Dylan greets me with a mischievous smile, stood there on the welcome mat, before immediately walking straight past me into the hall. “It’s weird enough seeing you without the glasses and braces, Hannah. I’m glad you decided to keep the beard at least.”

“Oh, please just walk right the fuck in, why don’t you?” I close the door with a sigh then turn around to face him, bringing a hand up to stroke my imaginary beard. “And I’ll never get rid of this bad boy, Vodka. Not on your life. You know my magnificent beard is one of my greatest attributes...”

With the house to ourselves the two of us decide to make the most of it, raiding the liquor cabinet before ending up on couch together watching TV.

I’m the one who suggests that we have a few drinks - in the belief that both of us could use a hefty dose of liquid courage this evening - but a few hours and one too many drinks later and we both have yet to address what almost transpired earlier in his room.

“I fucking love South Park,” I tell him, legs strewn over his lap as we lay sprawled out on the couch - well aware of the fact that I’ve now begun to slur my words a little. “I think it’s because Cartman is like a fat cartoon version of Harris.”

Dylan starts to laugh, shoulders rocking up and down as he picks up the bottle of vodka from the table in front of us. “The resemblance is almost eerie,” he agrees. “I wonder if one of the writers taught Eric in middle school and used him as inspiration.”

“Seems the most likely explanation,” I nod my head, swirling around the contents of the glass in my hand. “They’ve got the same first name and I’ve lost track of the amount of times I’ve heard him say ‘screw you guys, I’m going home’ and ‘respect my authority’ over the years.”

“Hey, who would I be if I was a South Park character?” Dylan asks amusedly.

“Mr. Hanky,” I immediately reply. “Because you’re such a piece of shit.”

Another burst of lovely laughter falls from his lips as he repositions himself on the couch, shoulder of vodka in hand. “Thanks Hannah, I love you too.”

He’s joking, of course, but as soon as he says it I feel like I’m floating on air, like anything is possible, like life itself might actually be worth living.

Dylan takes a quick swig straight from the bottle, screwing his face up as he swallows - then tops us both up, pouring a generous amount into each of our glasses in turn.

“Hey, did you see the way Reb was looking at you when you showed up earlier today?” he asks, screwing the lid back onto the bottle with a twist of his fingers - setting it down on the table. “He really could have used a fucking bib, the amount of drooling he was doing...”

“Why do you care?” I ask casually, fighting off a smile as I bring my glass up to my lips.

“I don’t.” Dylan quickly averts my gaze, starting to top his glass up with the half empty bottle of coke we found in the fridge. “I’m not worried about Eric. I know you wouldn’t give him the time of day.”

“Why would you need to be worried at all?” I take a deep gulp from my glass for courage, wincing slightly as the burning liquid goes down my throat. “It’s not like you’re into me, right?”

“No, of course not,” he insists, still not meeting my eye, busying himself mixing the contents of his glass with a long skinny finger.

“Hey, want to see some photos from camp?”

I’m unable to help from laughing a little at how relived Dylan suddenly looks.

“Sure,” he mumbles, bringing his glass up to his mouth again. “Let’s see where it was exactly that you ran off to when you abandoned me this Summer...”

“I didn’t abandon you!” I insist, horrified by the accusation.

“It sure felt like it,” Dylan replies then finishes off the rest of his glass in one long gulp.

“You told me I should go! You said it’d be a great experience for me!”

A look immediate annoyance dons Dylan’s face. “Yeah, well, maybe I didn’t realize how much I’d fucking miss you while you were gone, alright?!”

“Dylan...”

He hangs in head in response.

“Dylan, look at me.”

Nothing. He just keeps staring down at the bottle of vodka on the table, acting as though he can’t even hear me.

“I didn’t abandon you.”

He finally looks up at me, eyes meeting mine and all I can think about now is seizing that face in my hands and kissing him - every fiber of my being is begging me to reach out and touch him and I am intoxicated now in every sense of the word.

“Let me go grab the photos,” I tell him, resting a hand on his arm instead of leaping on top of him like I really want to do. “Come on, I really want to show them to you.”

“Alright,” he says, managing a small smile. “Go get them. Maybe we’ll see Jason Voorhies running around in the background or something.”

I stand up and the room begins to spin for a couple of seconds as I attempt to walk across it like a normal sober human being.

After retrieving the envelope of freshly developed photos from the mantle, I clumsily make my way back over to the couch while Dylan snickers, then fall down next to him again.

“You know, you have a tendency to walk like a baby giraffe who just stood up for the first time when you’re drunk.”

“And you have the tendency to annoy the everliving shit out of me, but I love you anyway, don’t I?” I pour the contents of the envelope out onto my lap.

“I don’t know, do you?” he asks, leaning over to peer down at the various photos strewn across my legs.

“Of course I do, dumbass,” I tell him, smiling down at a picture of me by the campfire with a group of particularly lively kids from Cabin B.

“Oooh, what’s this?” Dylan reaches over and picks up one of the photos, holding it up to his face for closer examination. “Well, hello there...”

“Which one is that?” I ask, shuffling the photos into a neat pile so they’re easier to comb through.

“My favorite one,” he tells me with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

“How could you have a favorite, you haven’t even seen them all?”

“Oh, I don’t need to,” he assures me, lips turned up into a smirk.

I lean over and get a quick glimpse at a photo of me smiling in a bikini. Gripped by sudden embarrassment, I try to snatch the photo out of his hand, but Dylan is too quick and holds it up, just out of reach.

“Nice try,” he says, turning away from me and tucking the picture into his jacket pocket. “Consider this my present, since you never brought me one back...”

“Are you for real?” I ask, feeling my eyes widen. “Give me back my picture!”

This only seems to amuse him further, smile only continuing to grow as he replies; “It’s my picture now...”

Launching forward, I send Dylan flying backward on the couch before falling down on top of him. “Jesus, Hannah! What the fuck?” he laughs, staring up at me with a look in his eyes that all but melts me like butter.

Hovering over him, happy and dazed and love drunk, it’s all I can do to resist that overpowering, ever present urge to kiss the hell out of him - to kiss him with all that I have, to kiss him with everything in me - to kiss him and finally, finally, claim him as my own...

“Hey Dylan...”

“Hey Hannah...” Dylan grins up at me, looking slightly dazed himself as I pin him beneath my body on the couch. It’s only then that I realize that my hand is pressed against his chest, up until now I’ve been too busy staring into his eyes to notice.

“Do you want to...”

“Yes,” he quickly replies, nodding his head.

“You don’t even know what I’m about to say!” I laugh and the effect of my body shaking up and down in such close proximity seems to elicit a reaction from us both.

I bite down on my lower lip, resisting the urge to start kissing him with a ferocity the likes of which has never been seen - to start grinding myself against him like a damn cat in heat or begging him to rip my clothes off right here on the couch.

“Whatever it is,” he says. “My answer is a loud and resounding fuck yes...”

“Do you to want to see what happens if we put bubblebath in the jacuzzi?” I blurt, suddenly too afraid - despite the liquid courage - to say the words I truly want to.

“Why, yes, Hannah,” Dylan reaches up to tuck a strand of hair back behind my ear as I sit atop him. “Yes, I do.”

We’re already pretty wasted by this point, but I don’t argue when he starts to top us up one final time with the last remnants of the bottle of vodka.

Swaying slightly as we walk through the kitchen, I have to grab onto his arm more than once for balance. He just laughs, endlessly patient with my stumbling self, wrapping an arm around me for support. “Yeah, I’m not so sure us getting in the jacuzzi is a good idea...”

“And why the hell not?” I demand, marching defiantly towards the sliding glass door that leads out to the deck - promptly walking into it. “Oww,” I groan, instantly feeling like a total idiot as I bring a hand up to touch my sore forehead.

“Jesus, are you okay?” Dylan seems torn between concern and amusement as he walks over, taking my face in his hands.

“Yeah,” I nod, feeling myself starting to smile at the thought that maybe walking into the door was worth it.

Reaching up, I rest both my hands atop his and close my eyes, just for a few seconds. “All good.”

Dylan doesn’t move his hands away, so neither do I and the sound of his breathing intensifies greatly as he leans down toward me. I open my eyes then close them again just as he plants a warm kiss on my forehead, almost making me drop the bottle of bubblebath in my hand.

It feels like we’re the only two people on earth as we stand there in my kitchen, drunkenly grinning at one another after so many long weeks - too many weeks - spent apart.

For three long years, I waited and waited and waited, ever patient, ever persistent, and in this moment I am nothing short of euphoric. Surely the two of us are on the same page here, but I need to be certain. I need to be absolutely sure I’m not deluding myself here, not reading too much into things.

“You sure you’re okay? No brain damage or anything?” he jokes.

“I’m fine,” I assure him, opening the sliding glass door I just walked into. “I just want to get in the damn jacuzzi already!”

“Come on then, buddy.”

A lazy grin plays across Dylan’s lips as he takes one of my hands and my breath catches in my throat as he knots his fingers through mine. “I know you’re wasted and probably have a concussion and all, but hey, fuck it! Let’s go get in the hot tub... seems like a grand idea.”

“First of all,” I argue, delighted beyond all comprehension at the fact that he’s now holding my hand as we step into the backyard. “It’s a jacuzzi, not a hot tub, so get your fucking facts straight, Dylan...”

“Oh, excuse me,” he laughs, pulling the door closed behind us. 

As soon as the fresh air hits us, the effects of the alcohol only intensify.

I let go of his hand, however reluctantly, to lean over and open the small panel at the bottom of the jacuzzi, turning it on.

“And second of all?” he asks, looking down at me as he leans his back up against the wall by the door.

I rise to my feet and look at him, grabbing the bottom of my sweater with both hands and slowly pulling it up over my head.

Dylan raises his eyebrows, staring almost transfixed for a few long and hopeful seconds before clearing his throat and quickly averting his gaze again.

“And second of all,” I tell him, sliding my skirt down over my thighs, letting it fall to the ground and pool around my feet. “If I do happen to pass out in the water, I know you’ll have no problem whatsoever giving me the kiss of life.”

“You think so, huh?” Dylan briefly glances back over at me.

“Oh yeah,”’ I nod my head confidently, carefully making my way up the steps of the jacuzzi. “I think so.”

It’s already started to heat up, so I climb in, omitting a heavy sigh of satisfaction as I submerge myself up to the shoulders in the warm bubbling water - almost immediately feeling all the tension in my body draining right out of me.

Dylan is still leaning up against the wall, staring at me, face partially illuminated in the moonlight as he stands there by the backdoor of my house.

“Aren’t you getting in?” I ask, unscrewing the cap from the bottle of bubblebath and pouring the rest of it into the water.

He doesn’t say anything, just nods his head, walking - almost tentatively - over towards the jacuzzi turned bathtub.

Dylan stands there quietly for a couple of moments, appearing as though he’s in another world entirely, before swallowing hard and finally tugging his shirt off over his head. “In just my boxers?” he asks hesitantly, voice even quieter than usual.

“Or without them,” I reply, sending a splash of foamy water in his direction as he fumbles with the waistband of his jeans.

“I really don’t think me getting in there naked with you is a good idea,” he admits, pulling his jeans down.

“And why is that?” I ask, blatantly checking out his legs as he takes his pants off.

“Because,” he says, stepping out of his jeans - slowly climbing the steps of the jacuzzi. “If I’m being 100% honest, I’m not entirely sure I could control myself.”

Dylan slides in, sitting down next to me, sighing as his body is enveloped in hot, bubbling water. The very air between us feels different now, it’s just not the same as before I left at the start of the Summer.

“I know it might just be a few flimsy layers of fabric between us,” he adds, “but those flimsy pieces could make all the difference...”

“I’m not sure I want you to control yourself, Dylan.”

“Don’t say things like that...”

“What if I said I wanted those flimsy few pieces of fabric gone?”

“Hannah,” Dylan closes his eyes. “Please stop...”

“What if I said I wanted you right here right now?”

“Hannah!”

“What would you do, Dylan?!”

He stares downward for a couple of painfully long seconds before finally looking back up at me. “Well, if that was the situation...” Wading forward through the water, Dylan brings his arms up either side of me - closing me in. “I guess I’d just have to fucking have you then, wouldn’t I?”

“I missed you so damn much this Summer, Dylan, you don’t even know....”

“You couldn’t have missed me as much as I missed you, Hannah. That’s not humanly possible.” The look in his eyes is so intense as he pins me there against the wall of the jacuzzi, that I suddenly find myself completely overwhelmed.

Tilting my head back, I stare up at the sky for a second or two instead - just long enough to gain some composure, just long enough to steady the rampant beating of my heart. “Wow, it’s so starry out tonight, isn’t it?

“Yeah, it is,” Dylan agrees, looking up at the dark night sky above us - now awash with a sea of glimmering stars.

“It’s really beautiful,” I comment, still staring upward, still not quite ready to look at him again.

“You’re really beautiful,” he replies, instantly forcing me to look back.

It’s Dylan that looks away this time, hands drifting back down to his sides as he moves away from me in the water - staring down at it again.

“What did you just say?”

“Nothing,” he quietly mutters.

“Did you just say I was beautiful?” I ask, unable to help grinning from ear to ear at the sentiment, even if I don’t truly believe it.

“No... yes... I don’t know...”

Jesus, the two of us are bad at this, each just as painfully awkward and inexperienced as the other one - each so hesitant, so afraid of making the wrong move or potentially fucking things up beyond repair.

“You did, didn’t you?”

Dylan’s cheeks have turned from a subtle shade of pink to a deep crimson color and he now looks like he’d rather be anywhere else on earth than sat in this jacuzzi with me. “Oh shut up, Hannah, you know you’re fucking gorgeous. You don’t need me to tell you that...”

“No, I don’t need you to tell me that,” I agree, “but I do appreciate you saying it.”

The alcohol has really started to hit me since we stepped outside and I imagine it must be having a similar effect on him. I feel giddy and lightheaded. I feel confident and indestructible. I feel like taking the rest of our clothes off and having him ravage me right here in my jacuzzi beneath a blanket of twinkling stars.

“To be honest, this whole makeover thing was because of you.” I force a laugh, knowing I’ll probably be mortified for having admitted to this in the morning. “So needless to say, I’m glad to hear you think I look good now.”

Dylan looks at me, furrowing his brow as ocean blue eyes stare into my own - and the only sound for several long seconds is the noise of the jacuzzi. “Not just now,” he says, shaking his head. “I’ve always thought you were beautiful.”

It’s kind of him to say so, but that couldn’t possibly be true. “No, you didn’t...”

“I did,” he stubbornly insists. “Always.”

“Beautiful in a ‘let’s just be friends’ kind of way or beautiful in an ‘I’d like to jump her bones’ kinda way?”

Dylan starts to laugh, sliding over in the water, leg brushing against mine as he stares at me - expectantly beneath heavy eyelids. “Mmm... let me think.”

Lips curling into a smile, he brings a hand up, stroking the small amount of stubble on his chin. “I guess, if I’m being completely honest, and had to choose one category or the other... I’d probably lean more towards the second one.”

“I knew you wanted a piece of this, Klebold!” I pump a fist in the air triumphantly. “I knew I wasn’t fucking crazy!”

“Oh you’re definitely crazy!” Dylan laughingly disagrees. “But yes, as you so tastelessly put it, I would indeed very much like a piece of that...”

“Oh yeah?” I ask, shamelessly staring down at his lips.

“Yeah.” Dylan nods his head - a pensive expression on his face. “All of it in fact, if it’s being offered...”

After all this time, after countless lonely nights filled with insurmountable longing and an almost bone deep need, it’s finally happening. And life itself - which once seemed far too bleak a thing to possibly endure - now seems beautiful and ripe with possibility.

Leaning in, closing in the last bit of distance between our faces, I close my eyes and finally... finally, bring my lips to his, but I kiss him and find his mouth unmoving.

Confused, I open my eyes to gage his reaction and find his own now closed. Taking that as a good sign, I press my mouth to his again and this time - much to my relief - he actually kisses me back.

I part his lips with my tongue then slide it into his mouth, eyes fluttering closed again. Dylan’s arm reaches down and wraps around my bare waist, mouths moving together as we embrace in the water. The kissing is clumsy at first, a little awkward even, but that quickly subsides as the two of us continue, eventually establishing some sort of rhythm.

His lips feel good, soft and warm and just a little chapped, but I don’t mind that, not at all - and as soon as our mouths met I knew I’d be content to do nothing more than kiss him for the rest of my life.

Dylan pulls back from me then, much to my dismay, before muttering the words; “I take it you like me back then?” against my lips, causing me to smile as I bring my hands up, taking his face between them.

I hold his face there for a moment before finally running my fingers back through that shaggy blonde mane of hair. “I’m yours,” I tell him simply. “I am so fucking yours, you don’t even know.”

“God, Hannah,” Dylan pulls me closer towards his chest, holding me tightly against him. My mouth falls open and his tongue slips in this time, just as a hand roams downward to play with the hem of my underwear. “I had no fucking idea...”

Then he’s kissing me again and all rational thought goes completely out the window.

His lips leave mine to travel to the hollow of my neck, planting slow tantalizing kisses up along the length of it. An almost involuntary moan escapes me at the sensation as I run my fingers up through his slightly damp hair. “Holy shit, Dylan...”

“You like that?” he practically growls the words in my ear, instantly awakening an almost animalistic need in me.

“I don’t hate it, that’s for sure...”

Dylan chuckles softly, burying his face in my neck again as we move around in the foamy water. “Hannah,” he murmurs, and the sound of my name on his lips practically renders me dizzy with my own desire.

Clasping my hands behind his neck, I stare deeply into his eyes, grinning helplessly. “Yes, Dylan?”

“Can I...” he pauses then looks away, seeming suddenly self conscious.

“Can you what?”

“Never mind,” he smiles almost shyly, leaning in to kiss me again.

“Wait,” I tell him, resting a hand on his damp chest. “What were you going to ask me?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he insists with a quick shake of his head. “I don’t want to put any pressure on you. Plus you’ve been drinking so...”

“So what? What were you going to ask me?”

“No, it doesn’t matter, really, I... I don’t want to take advantage of you either, Hannah,” he says awkwardly, struggling to get the words out. “That’s another point of contention...”

“I’m a big girl, Dylan.”

“Not anymore you’re not,” he grins.

“Oh ha ha, very funny!” I reply, voice dripping with sarcasm and a tinge of contempt. “Hannah used to be a fatty! How hilarious!”

Dylan bursts out laughing at that, shoulders sloshing up and down in the water - the surface of which is now covered entirely in giant piles of foamy suds.

“Oh shut up....”

“Make me, fatso,” he replies, grinning widely when my mouth falls open in response.

“Fatso is going to drown your sorry ass if you don’t shut your fucking mouth!” I laugh, leaning in to seize his lips with my own again.

“Please don’t eat me!” Dylan pleads, bringing his hands together in faux prayer.

Instead of kissing him, I put a hand under the water and send a sizable wave of water and foam flying up at him.

He blinks slowly a couple of times - blobs of foam in his hair, droplets of water dripping from his eyelashes. “Okay,” he laughs, slowly nodding his head. “I probably deserved that.”

“Fuck you, Dylan,” I scoff, feigning annoyance.

“You can if you like,” he replies, voice low and throatier than usual.

Words escape me entirely at that, so I simply nod my head in response - still in a mild state of disbelief over the fact that this is actually happening.

His arms find their way around me once again and a soft sigh escapes him as he leans in, bringing his lips to my ear. “I think we should go up to your bedroom first though. We’ve probably defiled this poor jacuzzi enough for one evening, don’t you think?”

Still pretty inebriated, but not as drunk as we were, Dylan and I climb out of the jacuzzi and head back into the house. We wrap some towels around ourselves, discarding our wet underwear on the bathroom floor before making our way upstairs.

“We should have just stayed in the jacuzzi, Dylan. This staircase feels like it’s never going to end,” I complain, tucking the edge of my towel in a little more securely as we climb the stairs.

“When you think about what we’re going to do once we reach the top of it, you might just consider it the stairway to heaven...”

That makes me laugh, despite my admittedly unreasonable annoyance at having to walk upstairs. “My legs are going to fall off in a second,” I groan.

“Don’t worry,” Dylan chuckles as we make our slow clumsy ascent of the stairs. “If they do, I’m more than happy to carry your legless ass around town.”

“How considerate of you,” I sarcastically reply, slowly trudging along after him. “Fuck, I hate stairs... I wish there was an elevator in my house!”

“Oh Jesus!” Dylan reaches the landing first - pausing at the top of the stairs to readjust the towel around his waist and shake his head at me. “It’s no wonder you and Harris are friends. I swear to God, you are just as bad as he is when it comes to complaining sometimes...”

That motivates me to climb the final few steps, if just to punch him in the arm as I pass by. “You take that back, you son of a bitch!”

“Alright, alright! I take it back!” Dylan smirks, rolling his eyes. “Damn!”

An idea suddenly occurs to me, one that immediately has me grinning right back as I step up onto the landing next to him.

“What?” he asks, raising an eyebrow somewhat skeptically at me. “I don’t like that smile, Hannah! What are you-.”

“You’re not going to like this either,” I tell him, quickly grabbing the corner of his towel and pulling it straight off of him in one fluid motion.

“Oh My God!” Dylan cries out, cheeks turning beet-red as he tries to snatch the towel back from me. The plan is to toss the towel down the stairs, but I can’t help glancing downward and that proves incredibly distracting - providing Dylan ample time to retrieve his towel from me.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” he mutters, looking incredibly embarrassed as he wraps the towel around his waist again.

“Oh don’t be so ridiculous,” I laugh, wishing I had just thrown the damn towel down the stairs after all. “I was going to see you naked in a few minutes anyway, wasn’t I?”

“Well... yeah, I guess,” Dylan grins despite his annoyance - shrugging his shoulders, cheeks still adorably flushed. “That’s not the point though, is it?”

“Fine,” I sigh heavily, untucking my own towel and letting it fall to the floor in a pool by my feet. “Now I’ve seen you naked and you’ve seen me naked. Are we good?”

Dylan’s eyes widen as he looks at me - standing there naked on the landing in front of him - gaze slowly traveling downward then back up again.

“Hey Dylan?”

“Yeah?” he says, so soft and quiet I barely even hear it.

“Please tell your towel that it’s rude to point at people...”

“Oh fuck the towel!” he loudly announces, quickly untucking it and letting it fall to the ground next to my own.

A burst of delighted laughter falls from my lips as Dylan bends down, scooping me up in his arms as though I weighed little more than a feather.

Holding me there - carefully cradled against his chest - Dylan carries me all the way down the hall and into my room, where he promptly throws me down onto the bed.

He clambers atop me, resting a hand either side of me on the mattress. Lips stretching into a slow and dreamy smile, he stares down at me for a couple of seconds before leaning down and kissing me deeply.

Feeling his hands roam my body, I can’t believe this is happening. I truly can’t. I can’t believe how right it feels. How inevitable. He looks adorable right now - smirking widely, cheeks flushed, hair a mess.

His lips find the hollow of my neck and travel upward - slow teasing kisses that leave me near breathlessness - grinding my hips up from the mattress to meet his own. “Are you sure you wanna do this?” he murmurs against my lips, but it’s far too late to turn back now, even if I wanted to. I have to have him, simply have to.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

Dylan kisses me again a few times before asking; “Kind of sure or sure sure?”

“Sure sure,” I tell him, cradling the back of his neck with my hand, pulling his face down to mine again.

“I just don’t want you to do anything you regret and-.”

“Jesus Christ, Dylan! Are we doing this or what?” I snap, torn between frustration and amusement.

“Alright! Alright!” he laughs. “Damn! Someone’s fucking eager!” Our lips meet again then he pulls away, grinning widely. “So, are you absolutely sure then, like 100% positive? I just want to make sure we’re on the same page here...”

“If you don’t shut up and fuck me already I swear to God I’m going to-.” But the threat is cut off short as Dylan silences me, pressing his mouth to mine.

His lips - warm, loving and urgent - place a trail of delicate kisses along the length of my body, inciting levels of desire and anticipation I never could have dreamed existed. Before I know it, I’m once again running my fingers through that long blonde hair, only this time I’m writhing beneath him on a mattress, uttering every profanity known to mankind.

“Don’t get mad at me for asking,” Dylan says, eyelids heavy, voice thick with arousal as he hovers over me on the bed. “But before we get started are you absolutely positively sure you want to have sex?”

“My answer is a loud and resounding fuck yes,” I tell him, holding his face in my hands.

Then he’s inside of me, hot damp skin pressed to hot damp skin, and the sounds he’s making, my God, the sounds - the soft and steady stream of sighs and moans falling from his lips... it’s all incredible. It’s everything I dreamed it would be and more. And I feel like I could never possibly get enough of this, enough of him, even if I lived for a thousand lifetimes.

The mattress springs creak loudly under his weight as he falls back onto the other side of the bed with a groan. “Well,” Dylan pants heavily, looking over aver at me with a grin. “That was fucking awesome.”

“Indeed it was,” I agree, happily smiling up at the ceiling as I lay next to him.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asks, concerned. “I was kinda worried I might be hurting you at first.”

“It did hurt a little when we first started,” I admit, looking back at him.

“Oh fuck, I’m so sorry,” he immediately interrupts. “Hannah, I-.”

“But,” I cut him off with a smile. “That’s normal the first time. It was great, Dylan. You were great, honestly.”

“Yeah?” he smiles back, looking relieved. “You liked it?”

“Yeah,” I nod. “I really, really liked it as a matter of fact.”

“Well, in that case, I guess we’ll just have to do it again sometime, huh?” he grins.

“Maybe. I’ll have to check my schedule,” I tell him - heart still pounding erratically in my chest. “I can probably move some things around and pencil you in a few weeks from now...”

“A few weeks from now!” Dylan plays along, scoffing and shaking his head incredulously. “Look who’s turned into little miss social butterfly all of a sudden! God, what did they do to you at that camp?!”

With the two of us laying there - naked as the day we were born with the last of the alcohol leaving our systems - I feel more hopeful about the future than I have for a very long time; even if I am painfully aware of the fact that I won’t really have a future, not really, not past next April at least.

“Speaking of, I finally made enough money this Summer to buy that fancy old revolver I showed you a picture of!” I tell him excitedly.

“Oh yeah?” Dylan grins, raising his eyebrows. “That’s awesome.”

“Yeah. I just wish I could just go out and get it right now, since I finally have the cash and all. It’s such a shame my eighteenth birthday isn’t tomorrow instead of...” my voice trails off.

“As opposed to six weeks or so after your death?” Dylan offers, smiling up at me, hair strewn about the pillow beneath him.

“Bingo,” I laugh weakly, nodding my head.

“That is a bummer,” Dylan agrees, “but you never know, maybe you’ll get your hands on something similar before then.”

“Maybe,” I reply, doubtful that’ll I’ll find anything I like half as much as that particular revolver. “I hope so anyway.”

“Well, hopefully we’ll be armed to the teeth already by the time April rolls around, but if worst comes to worst we can always have Reb buy the guns at a few different shops the week before.”

“That’s true,” I sigh, resting my head atop his chest - only now truly considering the fact that Eric is the only one us that’s actually going to have an eighteenth birthday. Listening to the comforting steady beating of Dylan’s heart, it’s hard to believe that in just a few short months from now that heart will cease to beat forever - as will mine, Eric’s and a lot of other people’s, if luck is on our side.

We lay in blissful silence for several long moments before I feel the need to speak up again; “I’m glad we’re going to go out together though, you know. I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else, but you.”

“And Reb?”

“Yeah, of course, Eric too.”

“I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else either,” he says, bringing our clasped hands up to his mouth - planting a quick kiss atop the back of mine. “I’m glad you’re going to be there with me at the end, Hannah. I’m glad I’ll be able to hold your hand, just like this...”

“April is awhile away still,” I tiredly remind him. “Let’s just worry about ourselves tonight, okay?”

“Fine by me,” Dylan agrees, absentmindedly tracing his fingertips along the length of my arm. “Eric hasn’t shut the fuck up about it all Summer, not that I can blame him. It is pretty fucking exciting...”

“I know, but we have all the time in the world to talk about that.”

“I won’t say another word about it,” he promises, pretending to zip his lips closed. “I’m sure Reb will want to get you up to speed personally anyway.”

“I love you, Dylan,” I yawn, listening to the steady lullaby of his heart - struggling to keep my heavy eyelids open as we lay there, tired, sweaty, satisfied. Intoxicated now purely on each other.

Just a couple of months now, that’s all - that’s all the time that Dylan and I are going to have together in this life. God, to think of how much time we’ve wasted already...

“I love you too,” he says softly - dropping the subject just as quickly and easily as it was picked up.

“How much?” I ask, eyes finally fluttering closed with my tipsy, sleep deprived form nestled safely in his embrace.

Another kiss is pressed against my forehead, making me smile as I slowly start to drift off to sleep in his arms. “More than anything,” Dylan quietly assures me, pulling the blanket up and tucking it in around me. “More than everything...”

“Beyond infinince.”

**Author's Note:**

> This got a bit dark at the end, admittedly but it is just a bullshit story on the internet, so please don’t feel the need to tell me what a piece of shit I am. Mmmkay? Thanks. ✌🏻


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